When Kyle Haas was born in Greeley, doctors pricked his finger, one of the simple tests they do to make sure everything is all right. Everything, as it turns out, was not all right.

The tiny hole didn't stop bleeding, and that's how Larry and Laura discovered their first child had hemophilia, the genetic disorder that impairs the body's ability to form blood clots. Those clots, of course, prevent our bodies from leaking away all our blood from something as simple as a pinprick.

Larry and Laura made it clear to Kyle he could do anything he wanted. But they also couldn't help but treat him as if he were fragile. Every year, they spoke to his class about the disorder, and while Laura believed it helped the other children understand him more, so they weren't as afraid, Kyle also sensed the kids were, in fact, afraid to play with him, at least in the first few days.

So Larry and Laura were encouraging, but sure, they were nervous, too. One time, Kyle was grating cheese and clipped his knuckle, and it bled all night long. He would bleed spontaneously, which was alarming, even if those incidents were rare.

“He regularly left me in the dirt.

— DR. Marilyn Manco-Johnson

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"It was always on your mind," said Laura, who still lives in Greeley with Larry.

So the idea of Kyle, 27, who now lives in the Denver area, doing Ride the Rockies seemed a little off and a little exciting at the same time. It seemed to be the event that symbolized his disorder. Ride the Rockies was quite the beast, even for fit, experienced cyclists such as Kyle. It varies from year to year, but it's generally close to 500 miles in a week, over mountain passes and at the kind of altitudes that makes Colorado special but also a tough place to ride a bike and do other activities that, you know, require oxygen.

The ride would indeed be proof Kyle could do anything. But it was also a big worry. It was the kind of thing most people can't do, and these people don't have hemophilia. Hemophilia isn't debilitating, especially with the new treatments out now, but extreme physical exertion can cause even more spontaneous bleeding, and it can cause joint problems. Kyle already had severe ankle problems as a result of the disorder.

And then there was the matter of the fact biking can cause injuries. What if he crashed? Well, at least Kyle had an answer for that one.

"Well, a crash would be significant for anyone on that ride, regardless of what they have," Kyle said. "Even so, I don't go flying down the hills like a lot of people do. As long as you keep the rubber on the road, you're going to be OK."

• • •

Kyle played golf but connected more in forensics and theater than sports at Northridge High School, where he graduated in 2007. Those activities were safer. Sports required him to infuse his blood with clotting agents, which meant sitting in a chair for a good hour, if not longer, essentially taking a huge shot just to go play ball. Sports weren't worth that to him, especially when he considered his ankles.

The spontaneous bleeding that can haunt hemophiliacs pooled in Kyle's ankles, and eventually those blood pools eat away at the cartilage, turning it into swiss cheese. He eventually had surgery for it.

But it was also just that nothing in sports thrilled him until he found cycling.

He was pushing 215 pounds and wanted to start exercising. He found a stationary bike and went to work. He was gasping for air after just a few minutes the first few times he tried it. It was a humble beginning. But in September 2013, after he caught his breath, he bought his first road bike. He also dropped 45 pounds.

Cycling was easy on his ankles. He didn't feel fragile on a bike. He could keep up with others who did it. Even those who were good at it. He found he was good at it, too: In February 2014, he did his first 100-miler, what cyclists call a century ride.

"From the very start of it, it was fantastic," Kyle said. "I could go enjoy it. On a bicycle you get to see everything. You can explore the mountains but also your neighborhood."

That's why Ride the Rockies called to him last year. It was a chance to explore a good chunk of Colorado's finest scenery. He thought only crazy people did it, but even that didn't discourage him from trying to train for it. A guy suggested riding more than 1,000 miles before the event.

He started a schedule of riding 50 miles on a weeknight, three nights per week for three hours at a time, on a route that involved a lot of climbing, as well. He then rode up 60-80 miles or maybe more, for up to six to eight hours on the weekend, during his peak training months, which ran from March to June. He wound up riding 1,250 miles, and he completed the first Ride the Rockies last year.

"It's very attainable," Kyle said. "As long as you're out there doing it."

His hematology doctor, Marilyn Manco-Johnson, who is associated with several hospitals and also works as a professor with the University of Colorado's School of Medicine, not only gave her blessing for him to do the ride, she began to think more about doing it after talking with him.

The infusion products that give Kyle the ability to clot have improved a great deal. They last longer, for one thing, as many times they only need to take them every couple days, and the time they have to spend taking the medication through a shot or an IV is much shorter now, as well.

Manco-Johnson prefers her patients to exercise, even the kind of demanding exercise Kyle does to train for Ride the Rockies. That does increase the risk of complications.

"But on the other side of that, you might do better than someone on the couch," she said. "My bias is that you are better. Kyle is one of an increasing number of people who can do great things with bleeding disorders."

That must be true, given Kyle turned out to be her inspiration, even her motivation, for entering the ride herself. She'd looked at the race every year and considered it, but after talking with him about his own ride in 2015, he convinced her she could do it.

Kyle decided to repeat the ride again this year, even though he had some different challenges this year over the last, including his ankle surgery, a procedure he had in December. He had to limit his training, though he admits he didn't have to train quite as much as he did that first year anyway, and it was sore at times during the ride.

They joined the same team, Project Recycle, an organization that takes old bikes and rebuilds them for children with lower incomes. She went as a teammate, not as his doctor.

"Honestly he regularly left me in the dirt," she said. "I wasn't worrying about him at all."

They faced a few other challenges together, including 50 mph headwinds during one of the days over Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park.

Kyle's known Manco-Johnson since the day he was born, when they pricked his finger and discovered something was wrong. Many times he felt fragile. He hopes now to do Ride the Rockies every year, or as long as his body allows him. He remembers thinking about his childhood on top of Trail Ridge Road, after he fought through the wind, with his doctor

behind him.

"Once you do that," Kyle said, "you feel like you can ride anywhere the